


the furnace that warms my soul

by antae



Series: AOT One Shots Collection [3]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: ;), Bottom Eren Yeager, Canon Compliant, Eren discovers that gender is fake, Eren in dresses, Eren in skirts, Eren is Not cishet i will Fight you on this, Homophobia, Homophobic Slurs, Jean is the bestest friend ever, Long-Haired Eren Yeager, M/M, Panties, Top Armin Arlert, gnc eren baby!, he doesn’t even realize it, i love writing eremin omggg, legit the only difference is our boi eren wears skirts, levi is one protective bastard but he hates to show it, self discovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-26 18:01:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30109878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antae/pseuds/antae
Summary: Eren Yeager is curious about things that he is expected not to be curious of. As expected of him, however, he surges forward and satisfies it, and discovers that there is more to life than titans, and he is more than a human weapon himself.or where everything is the same except Eren is in skirts.
Relationships: Armin Arlert/Eren Yeager, Connie Springer & Eren Yeager, Eren Yeager and all of the 104th tbh, Jean Kirstein & Eren Yeager, Mikasa Ackerman & Eren Yeager
Series: AOT One Shots Collection [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2189535
Comments: 22
Kudos: 111





	the furnace that warms my soul

**Author's Note:**

> Hey!
> 
> I started writing this out of sheer spite LOL cos so many people label eren as this cishet dude and i’m like ?? he is Not he doesn’t care what u address him as T_T !!!  
> and lately i read a post abt how isayama labels him as effeminate and i was like FUCK YEA! look at him!! he is sooo pretty my little pretty criminal <3____<3  
> so ofc i had to write abt him wanting to wear skirts >.> !! hope u guys enjoy!
> 
> P.S this isn’t edited at all and i posted this as soon as i finished writing so i’ll check for mistakes and edit later sorry in advance for typos

Eren feels so tired. 

He’s been chopping wood with Mikasa for more than 2 hours now, and his arms are starting to feel like lead, his thighs are quivering, a little, and he has to blink beads of perspiration out of his eyes. Beside him, Mikasa continues to move the axe upwards and down onto the pieces of wood, almost mechanically, a dull expression on her face. She doesn’t seem to be tired at all. Eren scowls heavily at his own collection of wood, a little smaller, but he will never admit it. He realizes his breathing has become a little irregular, too, and tries his best to bring it back to normal. How can wood-chopping be able to fatigue him this easily? How will he become a good scout and fight titans if he can’t even chop enough wood for his mother? 

_ Why can’t he be strong like Mikasa? She’s not breathing heavily. Not once has she even stopped to take a breath since they started. _

“Eren. This is enough, let’s take it back to Mother.” Mikasa’s soft voice interrupts his train of thought, and he startles, his grip on the axe loosening. 

“Why?” he demands, suddenly defensive, though he doesn’t really know what for. “We can go on. There’s plenty more wood to chop.” 

Mikasa stares at him for a moment, as if taking him in. He glares back, but half-heartedly. He wants to glare at himself, rather. “I’m just tired.” she says, finally. 

Eren blinks. Then the dull ache of the day’s activities catches up on his 9 year old body, more intensely. “Yeah. Me too.” he mutters, gathering up his chopped wood. “Let’s go home, Mika.” Mikasa responds with a soft smile. 

On the way home, he distracts himself from the ache in his limbs by looking around. His gaze settles on Mikasa, and he finds himself staring at the long gown she wears. As she walks, a little ahead of him, the movement and the wind makes the soft fabric fly around her ankles. It looks soothing, and soft, and the ache in his own ankles just makes it look all the more inviting. He sighs, thinking how nice it would be, and how  _ convenient  _ too, if he could also wear something that made his legs free like that. He frowns to himself, wondering why he couldn’t just do it. 

Is it because he is a boy? He jogs his memory, trying to remember a boy or man who had worn a skirt or gown, and came up with nothing. Do boys not want their ankles to feel free? Girls are so lucky, he thinks, their ankles must hurt less.  _ Great, _ he scowls,  _ another reason for Mikasa to be better than me. She’s a girl, and she gets to wear the soft clothes that don’t hurt her ankles.  _

His mother smiles at them the moment they walk in, and she grips the bundle of wood off both their backs, each in one hand, and walks back into the house. She’s so strong, Eren thinks, she’s carrying both our wood, and this is something he always thinks about everyday when she does this, but today, his focus is elsewhere. Her dress is lazily floating around, giving her legs freedom to do whatever they please.  _ Freedom.  _

Eren’s frown deepens. He thinks he’d be able to chop more wood if he wore a dress. Perhaps he’d be happier, too. 

—

Armin is furiously rubbing tears off his reddened cheeks. They look blotchy and probably sting, but he keeps scrubbing them aggressively with his fists. His bottom lip, swollen, is quivering and his wet eyes are filled with rage and sorrow. Eren feels red hot anger course through his veins at the thought of those stupid assholes who keep making his best friend cry. 

“I hate it,” Armin spits out. “They keep calling me a  _ girl. _ I am not a- not a-” he takes a deep breath, “ _ fucking  _ girl.”

Eren stares at his very upset friend, and kind of feels confused. Those boys stole his bread, beat him up, split his lip and called him weak, but Armin is more focused on them calling him a girl? Eren is more furious over those stupid kids stealing and beating Armin up, and had barely given the “girl” comment any thought till now. Eren would not care if someone called him a girl. He had never been called a girl anyway. This realization stings in a way, and he suddenly feels upset over something completely different. Does everyone think he’s a boy? But then why do people call Armin a girl and not him? They were both boys, as far as he is concerned. 

He feels his head start to ache. He hates how he can’t find any answers to these ridiculous questions that have started building up in his head. He kind of feels stupid, and that makes him even more frustrated, so he decides to ask Armin, because Armin reads lots of books and knows about things he doesn’t.

“Why? What’s wrong with being called a girl?” 

Armin’s cheek scrubbing halt, and the blond kid ponders on it for a while, as if he himself is asking  _ Yeah, why am I so angry about it? _

“Because I’m not a girl.” he firmly replies. “and they call me a girl because they think I’m weak, and my hair is a little longer than most boys.” 

“What the hell? Why would they call you a girl cos you’re  _ weak _ ? You aren’t weak! And girls are not weak too! And why do girls have longer hair than boys?”

Armin looks a little overwhelmed at the sudden train of questions but he just shrugs, his tears dry now and the blotchy redness fading to a pink hue on his cheeks. “I know girls aren’t weak.” they didn’t have to say it, but they were both thinking of Mikasa. “I just don’t like being called one anyway, cos I’m  _ not  _ a girl.”

Eren can kind of understand that, he thinks. He wouldn’t want to be called something he isn’t, either. But then why does he realize he wouldn’t mind being called a girl? Why does he want to wear the clothes girls wear? Okay, the second question is easy, it’s because he wants his legs free, and maybe because he would enjoy the soft feeling of silk fabric against his skin. He might even enjoy the way he would look. 

He squirms around, unable to stand still, and then mumbles, “Armin, would you still like me if I was a girl?”

Armin blinks, once, and Eren suddenly feels his heart hammer against his chest, an ugly, agonizing weight settling in his stomach. If Armin starts to hate him if he wore a dress then what would  _ others  _ do? 

“Of course I would.” Armin’s voice breaks through his panic. “Why wouldn’t I? You’ll be like Mikasa.”

_ He’ll be like Mikasa? _

Strong. With free legs. He decides he really wouldn’t mind it. 

—

“Ma, I really like your dress.” Eren begins. 

Carla Yeager hums as she continues to chop carrots near the sink. “Thank you, darling.” she says, smiling, and Eren beams, because she’s always the most beautiful when she smiles. Then he remembers what he wanted to ask her. 

“Ma…” he starts, and his voice is uncharacteristically silent, almost  _ meek.  _ “Why… Why can’t I also wear a dress?”

The chopping stops. Mikasa stares holes into his face. The air around him feels tight, and that unpleasantly familiar uncomfortable weight starts manifesting in his chest. 

Turning around, Carla frowns at him. She crouches down and grips his shoulders and asks, “Do you want to? Wear dresses?”

Eren can’t find his voice, there’s a giant lump forming in his throat, and he doesn’t really understand why he feels so scared, but he  _ does  _ and he wants it to go away so bad. But he doesn’t want to lie to his mother. So he gives her a weak nod. To his horror, he realizes he is on the verge of tears. He desperately doesn’t want his mother to hate him. 

“But you are a boy,” Carla says, confused. “Dresses are normally worn by girls.”

_ Normally worn by girls. _

The words hit Eren like a dozen arrows right at his chest, twisting up his insides and leaving him heaving with the phantom pain developing inside him. His mother thinks he’s not  _ normal.  _ But was he ever normal? Grown ups say he has anger problems, and he is also a killer (though he doesn’t regret killing those animals, they were going to hurt Mikasa!) People say he is a troublesome child with issues that shouldn’t be meddled with, and that’s why he can’t make any friends. 

He’s not normal. 

Eren shakes himself free from his mother’s grasp, and silently leaves. The first time he ever left a fight without shouting. Bitterly, he realizes this should have been a proud moment for him. 

—

Months pass, and nothing changes. Eren, with the attention span of a child with an attention deficit disorder, has forgotten all about his little confrontation with his mother, or perhaps he has chosen not to think about it at all. He’s had more important things to think about, anyway, like killing titans and helping his family and playing with Mikasa and Armin. 

It festers at the back of his mind during darker moments, however, and leaks into his thoughts randomly when he catches sight of Mikasa’s long gowns as she runs alongside him. Sometimes he wonders if he is some sort of  _ abnormal,  _ like those specific types of titans he’s heard about in rumors and myths that men share when they’re drunk at the market. This is around the time he stops thinking about it and finds something else to distract himself with. 

Until one morning, when his mother looks at him, smiles softly, but a little sad, and says, “Eren, I’m sorry for what I said that time, if you want to wear a dress, I would gladly make one for you.” 

It is so random, so sudden, that it leaves Eren speechless, and for a moment he considers if this is a trap of some sort. Swallowing, he nods, and offers her a shy smile. She bops his nose lovingly, and he feels the ever pleasant warmth of a mother’s love light the fire in his heart once more. 

A week later, Shiganshina falls, and all thoughts of dresses, and skirts, and girls and boys, and toys and games and other names shatter in his mind, leaving him a vessel of rage and grief too large to exist within a child’s body. 

—

Eren feels like he’s burning out from the inside. On most days, he feels this burning forest inside of him, an infinite fire that continues to spread its branches within him, turning him into ashes. He doesn’t know how to stop it, all he can do is  _ feel.  _ This fire fuels his anger, which seems to be the only dominant emotion he can completely comprehend these days. Too much has happened in such little time, and he hasn’t given his brain enough space to process any of this utter fuckin bullshit; his entire body is on auto-pilot, a default mode consisting of primarily rage and determination. 

He wants it all to stop. He wants to rest, just for a second, to catch his breath, to feel fifteen and run across the grass outside with Mikasa and Armin. Perhaps even with the rest of his friends now. His friends. He doesn’t think of his mother much, it’s just too painful, but he hopes his mother is proud of him, for building friendships with other kids his age. 

But he is a titan. 

Eren tries not to think about the implications. He faces his experiments “like a champ” according to Hange, he trains and trains and forces his adolescent body to reach its limit and go even beyond, welcomes the ache with grim endeavor. If he stops, even for a second, to allow himself to grieve and acknowledge the burning fear and helplessness dwelling at the heart of the fire within him, he would succumb to it. He cannot risk it. 

—

“Armin is actually quite the little criminal.” 

The blond boy chuckles, arranging his collection of illegal books on his bed, and glances up at Jean, who is looking at him with some newfound admiration in his features. “Well, yes, I hid these books and carried them with me everywhere. I could care less about what the law thought.”

Eren smiles to himself, allowing himself to reach into his mind and pluck the memory of Armin’s shining eyes and yellowing books depicting pictures of what looked like other  _ worlds _ .

“So is that what you want to do? When we take back the land?” Sasha asks, sitting up as she continues to flip through pages of another one of Armin’s books. It is a Saturday afternoon, the girls had sneaked into the boy’s dorms and they now sit huddled on their beds, hungrily taking in everything Armin has proudly presented to them. 

Armin has the familiar faraway look in his eyes again. “Yeah. I want to see the ocean. Isn’t it brilliant? You can see pictures in those.” He points at a bunch of books that were laid out on his bed. Connie snatches one up and flips through it, Ymir’s head pushing his own away. 

“I want to start a business!” Jean proclaims, loudly. “Discounts to you guys, of course, especially to Mikasa.” He grins foolishly at her. Eren scowls, disgusted. 

“I’m opening a bakery.” Sasha giggles, and she claps her hands in delight. “We can meet up like this every Saturday and free baked goodies for all!”

“I want to marry Christa.”

Everyone collectively rolls their eyes, and Ymir scoffs. “No wedding invitations to y’all, then.” 

Nobody protests, and the silence is broken by Mikasa, who spoke softly, “I want to have a little garden. And grow flowers.” Eren’s heart melts, a little. 

“Jean and I could be business partners!” Connie exclaims, suddenly, and Jean claps him on the back, snickering. “Partners in crime, Springer! Hell yes.” They fist bump. 

“What about you,Yeager?” Jean asks, and Eren startles. 

“M-me?” and why the fuck did he just stutter?

“Yes, you, moron, you’re quiet. Feels really fucking wrong when no one can hear your high pitched tantrums every 5 seconds, you know?”

“Oh, fuck you.” Eren sticks his tongue out, and then says, “Um, I haven’t really thought about it.”

He feels the stares, so he just looks at his hands. What is there to do anyway, after he defeats the titans? What purpose does he have other than be a vessel for revenge? Even before Shiganshina, the only thing in his mind had been killing titans. He realizes, with an ache he desperately wants to go away, that he has no goals for himself, he has nothing he likes. What exactly makes him human? 

Then he realizes he’s lying to himself.

He did have something he wanted. Back before Shiganshina fell. For a few days that feels like a thousand lifetimes ago, Eren had wanted to know what a dress felt like. A ridiculous, childish curiosity, but it had been a dream nonetheless. Nothing fancy or adventurous, like Armin’s dreams, not mature and adult like Jean’s or understandable like Mikasa’s. For a few seconds of his miserable life, Eren had wanted something that didn’t involve bloodshed. But of course it’s something as ridiculous and stupid as wanting to wear  _ women’s clothing _ . 

He startles, again, when he hears a cough. Looking up, he realizes that his silence had been contagious. Nervously chuckling, he mutters, “Sorry, I was just thinking.” He makes eye contact with Armin, and frowns when he sees the boy staring at him, looking strange. “What?” 

Armin looks away. “Nothing.”

—

He catches himself staring at Christa. 

Ever since he remembered a piece of his childhood that had been locked away for five years, it’s been eating away at his thoughts, annoying, relentless and extremely shameful. He had at first shaken the thoughts away as a child’s dream, a single fantasy only a 9 year old would weave up, but he realizes this goes deeper. 

Deeper than the burning forests within him, deeper than the fire that burns for his mother and friends, deeper than the rage that controls him. This might as well define his  _ identity.  _ This goes so deep it pokes the core of his very being. He wants to know what makes him  _ human.  _

Armin had once told him that being best friends with Eren was like standing incredibly close to a fire and staring deep into it until your eyes hurt and tear up. Eren, in his eyes, shines so bright that his entire being has a metaphorical glow. And then he had admitted that it is difficult to keep up with his constant luminosity. 

Eren wants to say the feeling is mutual. 

In a world full of people who have accepted they’re cattle, caged and cowering, Armin, with all the willpower of a scrawny child, dares to  _ hope.  _ In a world where all Eren can think of is to have his revenge and kill, Armin dares to think about  _ life outside the walls  _ and  _ nurturing. _ Armin may find it difficult to stand side by side with Eren, but he has no idea how difficult it is for a killer who’s only dream is to kill to stand next to a dreamer who hopes to see the beauty of a world unknown. Armin knows himself, even as a child, he’s known himself. 

_ I am not a fucking girl. I don’t like it when they call me something I am not.  _

Eren wants to know something about himself that attaches himself to his humanity. Not the unbearable love he feels for his friends, not the inhuman rage. He wants an identity, an expression. A selfish need. He is fifteen, and he is tired of  _ only  _ being a human weapon, a titan-shifter, a boy with nothing to define himself. If his comrades and home and the titans were taken away from him, what would be left of him? What is the part of Eren that makes Eren  _ Eren? _

Perhaps, if he decides to be a little selfish, everything else would come easier to him. 

He has always been someone who, no matter how he felt, says and does whatever the fuck he wants to. With that in mind, he approaches Christa. 

—

Eren glares at the light green dress laid out in front of his bed like it had murdered his puppy. His fingers itch at his sides to feel the fabric. Christa had come in, all smiles and kind words, laid it on top of his bed, and then left. Throughout his stammering request, she had not once questioned him on anything. Eren has always known her personality is somewhat... fake, but her kindness is genuine. And she holds no judgement. She had said yes, given him what he wanted, and left, no question asked, no inquisitive gaze. She behaves the way anyone with a secret of their own would. 

The boys are out right now, Eren knows this. They won’t come back till the late evening, he has his alone time for about two more hours. Gently, he places his hand on the soft material, and his breath hitches. It feels like ordinary fabric, but there is some softness in it that makes his skin melt, it is so different from him, so, so  _ fucking soft  _ that Eren desperately wants to feel it against his skin. 

Finally, he removes his pants and shirt, and shivers a little at the lack of cloth. Gingerly, he picks up the soft garment and puts it on, heart pounding in his ears, another shiver coursing through his body as he feels the material hang loose around him. 

_ Oh.  _

He stands there, feeling so,  _ heart-achingly  _ soft. His thighs, pulpy, scarless skin, gently press against each other, sheltered by the outer fabric. He takes a few steps around the room, and feels a childish, innocent feeling of utter  _ delight _ sink into his bones. Suddenly, he wants to run with Mikasa and Armin through the fields, buy lollipops and suck them under the sun while sharing funny stories, splash each other with water and then race under the heat of the Sun to dry themselves off. He wants to  _ live,  _ damn it. 

This feeling of utter euphoria, just from something as ridiculous as an article of clothing, makes him giggle to himself, now twirling around the room, and he feels so, so calm, so  _ human;  _ his mind is blank and is filled with bliss. For once, no titans, no rage, no anger. For once, he feels fifteen and in love with life itself. 

Another giggle works past his lips, and he shuts his eyes, only to open them in alarm when he hears the door slam open. 

Jean is standing there, hand on the door knob, staring at him like, well, like he had just walked in on his very male friend in a dress. 

Eren can’t breath. He feels numb.

“Oh, my god.” he hears Jean mumble, and just like that, intense emotion rolls into him like a tidal wave, and Eren groans, feeling his eyes sting. He buries his face in his hands, his heart pounding like a drum. Burning embarrassment surges through him, why had this even been a good idea?

He can’t look up from his hands, he wants to  _ die. _

The silence pursues only for a few seconds. 

“Hey, uh, Eren,” Jean addressing him as just  _ Eren _ makes him want to die even  _ more _ . “Is this a bad time?”

“ _ Yes _ , you fucking  _ stupid  _ horseface,” he grits out, face still smashed in his hands. 

“Could…” Jean trails off, “Could you look at me?”

“No, fuck you.”

Jean huffs out an awkward laugh. “Um, fair warning, the others are coming too-”

Just like that, all of Eren’s friends come barreling into the room, hooting and shrieking.

And then silence, once again.

Eren decides he is never looking up from his hands, ever, he will  _ die  _ like this.

“Eren…” Armin’s voice is a whisper, soft, concerned, but there is no disgust, no hatred, so when the boy repeats his name in that same gentle tone, he glances up. His face  _ burns.  _

It seems his face is not the only one that is red. Jean’s face is the reddest out of the bunch, probably because he was here longer, but all of them are sporting a delicate blush. Eren feels the anger surge within him, wanting to scream,  _ Get out, let me stay here and enjoy this for some more time!  _ And yet he also wants to have fun  _ with _ them, and they don’t seem to look weirded out, so he dares to hope. 

He sighs, annoyed, and finally says, “I’m sorry, I know this is weird.”

“It’s not.” Connie blurts out. Eren blinks. “It’s not. Or are you calling Sasha weird for wearing a dress?”

“What? Of course not.”

“Then how is this weird?”

“I-I don’t know, because I’m a boy?”

“So what?” Armin asks. “When has anything like that stopped you from doing what you want to do?”

And Eren is so incredibly confused, because for the first time in his life, there are people around him voicing the very questions that he had never even dared to ask himself. 

“Eren…” Armin continues, and he looks  _ devastated,  _ and Eren feels the familiar feeling of fear creeping over him again,  _ Armin is probably sad his longest friend is being a weirdo alone _ . “Have you been hiding this from me? You know I meant what I said when we were kids right?”

“Huh?” And then it clicks that Armin is probably talking about that question Eren had asked years ago. 

“I’m not a girl.” he says, rolling his eyes. “Fucking hell, I just wanted to wear a dress, okay? This is getting so dramatic, I’m already embarrassed enough.”

Jean snorts at that, “Of all the things you  _ should  _ be embarrassed about,  _ this _ is what makes you embarrassed? I can name like 20 things off my head right now that were far more embarrassing than wearing some dress.” 

Fists clenched, Eren bites back, “Oh shut the fuck up, I can name way too many for YOU, you absolute loser, God, you are such a pain-”

“When your dumbass tried to be some hero out of a fairy tale and flew towards a titan and got your  _ leg chewed off _ -”

“I fucking survived that! Fuck! You’ve walked into doors staring at Mikasa’s  _ face,  _ you bastard!”

“Oh and when you tripped over a broom and fell over right in front of Captain fucking  _ Levi _ -”

“Yeah, very fucking funny, as if you haven’t stammered like a dimwit in front of the Captain before, at least I’m in his good graces when it comes to  _ cleaning _ .”

“And you’re here acting like a blushing maiden because of some  _ skirt _ ? God, you really are a-”

“Well atleast I’m pulling it off, aren’t I? Why don’t  _ you _ go around in a skirt you ugly bastard!”

Jean smirks, “Oh I totally would, if it wasn’t for my absolutely humongous,  _ colossal horsecock _ between my legs! Too indecent.”

And Eren couldn’t find a retort, for he doubles over, holding his stomach, as he begins to laugh, because this whole situation is so ridiculous, and Jean is such a fucking  _ asshole _ but he isn’t  _ really  _ an asshole, and because everyone in the room seem to have forgotten he’s in a dress. Or perhaps they just don’t care. Eren’s heart soars.

—

Eren is Eren, and nothing has changed. Their dynamic is the same, their conversations stay the same, including their retorts and routines, except he’s started wearing dresses in the dorms. It’s become some sort of tradition for them to come back from training or cleaning to see Eren put on a dress and continue on like it’s normal. Nobody really questions anything, unless it’s some snickering comment. 

“Twig legs out in the open again, Yeager! We love to see it, though you really need some more muscle there, man.”

A whistle, “Wow, Ymir and Christa really gave you that? Do you want us to go shopping sometime so we can buy your size?” 

“That’s one I haven’t seen before, I dig it, Eren.”

And Eren hasn’t laughed this much in  _ ages.  _ Hasn’t felt this  _ free  _ in ages. He finally feels like a child among them again, teenagers, having fun and teasing, and the fabric he wears calms him down so easily, that he doesn’t even rage as much as he used to. His bare stomach and thighs love the soft feeling the material provides,and the freedom to run around the dorms and feel the material fly around him is utterly _ magical.  _

—

“Hey Eren, Sasha wants to paint my nails.” Connie says, randomly, and Eren perks up from his bed. He’s wearing a light blue dress that stops just at the knees, and fits snugly around his waist. He crosses his legs and hums. “Do you want me to join?” 

Connie nods excitedly, “She and Mikasa paint their nails together you know? She goes shopping sometimes on the weekend when we get free time!”

Eren leans back, smiling. He’s been socializing with them more recently, and he’s been enjoying every minute of it. He can’t even pretend to dislike Jean anymore. 

The other boy looks a little nervous, scratching the back of his neck. “You know, you can… wear a dress when we go there.” He starts, and then, panicking, continues, “I mean if you want to, of course. It’s just, she won’t mind, Eren, seriously.” Connie is now blushing from his head to his neck, and his eyes were darting from the edges of Eren’s dress to the foot of his bed.

The warmth in his chest is so cozy. Before, the burning forest in his chest suffocated him with its ashes, now it feels like a warm campfire, and only prevented him from feeling cold. 

“Okay.”

—

Jean is looking at him with the strangest expression Eren has ever seen. He has a red flush on his cheeks, he looks extremely fucking  _ pained _ , as if he would rather be anywhere but there, even cleaning the floor under Levi’s watchful eye. 

“Um…” Eren starts, raising an eyebrow. “Do you need to take a shit?”

Jean splutters, and raises his hand to defend himself, and in the process drops a parcel to the ground. Flushing even worse, he scrambles to pick it up. Eren is way too confused to say anything, so he just stares. 

“You…” the other boy begins. “You’ve been uh. growing your hair out. Right?”

Eren tucks a stray hair behind his ear. “So I have.” he replies coolly. 

“Doesn’t it bother you? It keeps falling to your face.” 

Eren shrugs, “I manage.” Though it does indeed bother him sometimes.

Jean fumbles with the parcel for a while, and then shoves it towards him. The boy looks about to pass out, and Eren is starting to get actually fucking concerned. “Dude, are you okay?”

Jean ignores the question. 

“I found this um, hair clip packet? In the market and I bought it for Sasha, you know? Cos she wears them a lot, and well, I found out she already has this packet so now , um…” Jean was rambling like an idiot, but Eren just remains silent, unsure what exactly to fucking say. 

“So how am I involved in this?” he voices his thoughts.

Jean sighs, “You’re really so fucking dense.” he complains, “Do I have to spell it out for you?”

“Well, yes? I’m not a fucking mind reader!”

“THESE ARE FOR YOU!”

“I— what?” Eren figures he probably heard wrong. 

Jean takes a little packet out of the parcel, and inside the transparent cover lie pairs of blue and green hair clips and bands. Some in the shape of butterflies, some with ribbons. Eren feels like this is some ridiculous dream, because there is no way in hell is Jean giving him something he originally bought for Sasha.

“It’s just, your hair is kinda everywhere now, man. And well, I thought these would look…” he trails off. 

Eren is too busy staring at the hair clips to even bother understanding what Jean is trying to say. His hair is about half an inch above his shoulders now, and those  _ would  _ come in handy to stop it from annoying him. He’s just confused as to why Jean would give him these. Regardless, he slowly takes it from the other boy, and mutters, still bewildered, “Thanks, horse boy.”

Jean scowls, his blush reducing, “Whatever, man, I just thought you’d make more use of them anyway. Later.” He stalks off. 

Eren stares at the retreating figure. How peculiar.

—

Cleaning their dorms and their residence is a weekly routine that Captain Levi is  _ very  _ adamant and strict about. A routine nightmare for the 104th, really, and Eren is lucky that he is the best at cleaning, because the others seem to be doing even worse than him. 

No one is addressing the elephant in the room this week, though, and for that, Eren is grateful. He looks down at the edge of the skirt that reaches just above his knee, and smiles, widely. It is dark green, and matches his eyes, and his usual shirt is tucked into it. His nails, painted brown, matching with Connie’s who’s nails were painted grey, shine against the dull surface of the broom he was holding. A ribbon from the packet he got is holding his long locks of hair from falling into his face. 

The girls, aside from Sasha, have yet to see him in this attire. Ymir and Christa know about it, but he has never shown them. He silently cleans the table in the room he’s currently in, making sure not to leave a speck of dust behind. In all honesty, Eren enjoys this, it’s almost like therapy. He likes to keep himself active by doing things like cleaning and dusting, and the praise he gets later is an added bonus that makes his cheek warm. He hears the door open behind him, and as he turns, a shocked gasp escapes the newcomer. 

Mikasa stands just ahead of him, staring at him like she couldn’t  _ really  _ see him, and her eyes have become clouded, like she is miles away from where they are right now. Eren tenses, thinking his heart would definitely shatter if she walks away from him right now.

“Eren.” her voice is filled to the brim with sadness, her eyes wet.  _ Oh God.  _ Eren shuffles around, rubbing his bare thighs together, opting to stay quiet. He silently begs her to accept this- whatever this is. His heart shatters, it does, but not for the reason he is expecting.

“Oh Eren, you look so much like your mother.”

Visible tears are there in her eyes now as she looks at him with such obvious adoration. Eren doesn’t know what to do, how to respond, except actually run towards the mirror propped near the door and stare at himself. He has never bothered to look at himself when he is dressed like this up close before, but now that he does, he can understand what Mikasa meant. 

He looks like his mother’s son. 

He has her face, her plump cheeks, her tan skin, her eyelashes, thick and naturally curled, her lips, pink and full, her hair, trapped within ribbons, her waist, emphasized by the skirt and the long tan legs, her temper, her willpower, her life energy. He is his mother’s son through and through, physically, emotionally, completely. Her life blood flows in his veins, her energy has passed to him, she is living within him, tending to the fireplace that burns at the very core of his soul. She is the furnace that warms his soul. 

How could he have ever doubted who he was? 

It’s been staring back at him since the beginning.

—

“Eren! My wonderful,  _ darling  _ Eren! You look absolutely precious, my dear!” Hange’s voice is loud and full of delight, as they grab his shoulders and shake him hard. He bounces back and forth under the force of their grip, and laughs nervously. “Thank you, Hange.”

They relax their hold and turn around to gather papers from their desk. There’s so many random papers, books and maps laying on it that Eren doesn’t even know how they know where to find what they’re looking for, but he just waits, patient. His left hand fists the pleat of his skirt, and he jolts when Hange suddenly addresses him. 

“So, I know clothes are just clothes, sweetheart but I just want to know, out of respect, what your pronouns are now. Are they still he?”

“What?” Eren pauses, letting the question sink in, and chuckling when he understands that he has not even considered such things. “Um… no… I am a boy. I think.”

“Oh, well of course you are! Or maybe not!  _ I _ think you are a pretty little titan shifter! But pronouns are just pronouns, my dear, ways to be addressed! You can use they pronouns and still be 100% a boy! Or maybe not.” They wink.

Eren’s jaw drops. He contemplates it in his head for a while and then states, “I think I won’t mind, actually. I do see myself as a boy. But I won’t mind if someone thinks I’m a girl. Or if someone uses they or she or he. It doesn’t matter to me.” He adds on then, worried, “Should I care about it?”

“Of course not, sweet pea,” Hange laughs, “You are you, and that is okay!”

Eren breathes low, content, and smiles up at them, letting go of his skirt. He has always been like this, he thinks, grinning like a fool, gender is something he has never cared about. He cannot even comprehend trying to care about whether his lover would be a boy or girl, whether  _ he  _ is a boy or girl, or what type of clothes he  _ should  _ and  _ shouldn’t  _ wear. All he knows is that he’s Eren, his mother’s child, and he will defeat the titans with his comrades and travel the world. And that is enough to keep the fire inside him aflame, warm and bright. 

—

Christa, Mikasa and Sasha keep begging him to hang out with them. Ever since that cleaning day, he’s beginning to see a side of Mikasa he absolutes cherishes. She’s smiling more, playing around with the girls more, painting her nails and going on shopping sprees when they get their allowances. Eren figures she is also beginning to come out of her shell, and realizing that being fifteen is actually very fun, and relaxing, and  _ adventurous _ . 

“Enjoy these years, Mikasa.” Armin tells her, and then looks at Eren, too. “Once this training period is over, we will be going to a war. A war we know nothing about.”

And for now, their future problems seem so far away, almost untouchable. Armin’s heavy blush and Mikasa’s soft touch seem to be all Eren can think of. Sasha’s baking, Christa’s clothing choices, which Eren loves, Jean and Connie’s remarks that are now almost borderline flirting, that leave him confused but flattered, they’re all stitching together to create a web of memories Eren knows he’ll treasure when reality catches up to them. Ymir pretends to detest him for “stealing” Christa’s clothes. All Eren can do these days is laugh. 

—

Armin laces his hand with his, and Eren feels his entire body flush at the contact. He’s confused, he’s held hands with Armin since forever, but today, the touch seems to ignite something new within him. 

Armin has a small flush on his cheeks, and an adorable redness in his nose and ears. He picks up a book with his other hand and buries his face into it. Eren stares at the boy and traces the edge of his skirt with his other hand. It was around 11 in the night, they had had a grueling day at training, and should be asleep. Instead, they’re holding hands on Armin’s bed. 

It feels nice. His heart is racing, a little, and his palm feels warm. 

Armin finally looks up from his book, and his eyes latch on to Eren’s skirt again, at his bare knees and then up to his face, his lips. Eren leans in, barely breathing, and Armin halts his breath, loudly. Eren jolts back, and stammers an apology. Shaking his head, Armin surges forward and connects their lips. 

It feels weird, their lips move with no coordination, it’s a little dry, because both of them had not bothered to lick them before leaning in. They pull back and stare at each other, taking heaving nervous breaths. They kiss again, and then Armin says he needs to sleep. Matching the blond’s blush, Eren murmurs an agreement, and crawls away into his own bed. 

—

A few days later, Jean tells them he’s bisexual. 

“So yeah, just wanted you guys to know, I’m  _ available,  _ ladies, gents,  _ anyone _ ,” he jokes, thought it’s obvious from his tone and posture he’s nervous. He’s leaning into Connie, who seems to have already known. 

The strange fear on Jean’s face doesn’t suit him. And Eren feels like he owes the boy in this situation, so he breaks the silence. “Open for all, and still no partner, I  _ knew  _ you were an absolute loser.”

The tension leaves Jean’s shoulders as he glares at Eren, but the boy can’t even hide his relieved smile. “Oh, fuck you, boys like you are not my type anyway.”

Eren wiggles his eyebrows, poking more fun, “Something tells me that’s a  _ lie _ , horseface.” 

“Well, wouldn’t  _ you  _ like to find out.” Jean scoffs, looking away, scowling. 

“In your  _ dreams _ .” Eren laughs, and the others are glancing at them, in disbelief, and Sasha whispers, even though everyone can hear her, for she has not really mastered the art of whispering, “Are they fighting or flirting?” 

“We can never really tell.” Ymir sighs. 

“Boys.” Christa rolls her eyes. 

In a rush, Eren finds himself blurting out, “But do I really look like a boy to you guys?”

They freeze, and Eren regrets it. He doesn’t know which answer he would want, a yes or a no. 

_ Please say no.  _

“No.” and to his surprise, it’s  _ Jean  _ who has replied, and he doesn’t know if he should be offended, but his heart  _ soars _ , “You look like a fucking idiot.”

Mind suddenly going blank, Eren lunges at the howling teen. “YOU FUCKING DICK!”

Mid-punches, he manages to get the words out to their audience, who seem bored out of their minds. “I don’t really care” Punch. “what I’m seen as!” Kick to Jean’s stomach, his skirt flying. “So I don’t care what you guys use” he gasps when he feels Jean’s half-hearted punch at his face “to address me with.” he finishes, and shoves Jean to the ground, landing on top of him. 

“Okay then, so you  _ are  _ a feisty school girl.” Jean gasps, and his laughter is so contagious, the others around him join him. “The titans are  _ so _ not ready.”

Breathless, Eren feels a giggle burst from his lips. These days cannot get better. “They definitely are not.”

He tells them later that he is bisexual too, he cannot let Jean upstage him anyway, and to his surprise, finds out Armin is bi as well, and Connie doesn’t really know, and Ymir is very definitely a lesbian while Christa doesn’t care, she just loves Ymir. Mikasa just shrugs and says she never thought about it. Surprisingly enough, it was Sasha who said that nobody really knows these things at fifteen, and that they will all figure it out later. 

Together. 

—

The fact that his small bubble of friends are not the only people around drops on his head like a stone. He has forgotten that people outside their little dorm are not accustomed to his clothing preferences. He should have been more nervous, but he doesn’t really feel it anymore, he feels  _ free  _ when he’s with his friends, so it never occurred to him later that perhaps others wouldn’t think kindly of him. 

They had gone down to the market after a hard week of training with 3DM gear, and for Eren a bunch of exhausting experiments, so a day to cool off is something they had all been looking forward to. He is wearing a black short skirt that is an inch above his knees, a white shirt tucked in, his father’s key dangling from his neck. His hair is tied into two ponytails from either sides, Jean’s gift coming in handy as two hair ties with plastic butterflies keep them tied up.

The shop owner is scrutinizing him as he would an alien. His eyes are narrowed as they travel up the brunette’s form, and Eren feels his temper rise up with it. 

“The fuck are you looking at?” he snaps, finally, when the man continues to ogle him like he’s a damn zoo animal. 

“We don’t serve faggots here.” 

Eren blinks, trying to understand what that word meant. He’s heard it used a few times before but had never bothered to learn what it meant. In his confusion, he almost misses the blur of yellow to his right, and it only registers when Armin’s fist crunches the other man’s nose, hard, aggressive and filled with fury. 

Well. That means the word is bad, clearly. 

“You son of a bitch!” Armin shrieks, “You take that back, you take that back, you fucking bastard—” He wrings the man’s neck like he’s a rag doll. 

Hazy with pain, the man spits at him, blood and saliva hitting the boy’s cheek and travel down to his chin. 

Eren sees red. 

He lunges forward, aiming to  _ hurt,  _ wanting to wipe that disgusting vile liquid away from Armin’s flushed, yet pale cheek, but Connie is holding him back from his waist, shouting at him to calm down, even though the boy himself looks absolutely livid. The commotion is enough for the rest of the group to arrive, and the next thing Eren knows, Jean is dragging Armin away from the man’s crumpled form, and they’re being escorted back to their castle. 

Jean is swearing like a fucking sailor, saying every cuss word he knows, saying men like those are vile pigs who deserve to  _ die _ , Armin is shaking with rage and wiping frustrated tears from his eyes, Connie looks grim and angry, gaze pointed downward as he continues to keep hold on Eren’s waist. Eren is so confused. Was the word really that bad?

He asks Armin, and the boy looks at him, sadly. “It was one of the words they used to call me all the time, Er. That’s where you’ve heard it before, I think. It’s a deragatory term to refer to gay people.” He grips Eren’s arm tight. “ _ Never  _ allow someone to call you that, okay?”

Mikasa is absolutely murderous. She plans to go back and finish the job and kill the man, but is stopped by Armin himself, who, ironically was the one who had started it. “We can’t risk a public disturbance, Mika, I wasn’t thinking then, I’m sure you understand, but this could blow up and Eren could be taken out of our custody.”

“For  _ what _ ?”

“Endangering civilians.” 

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” she shrieks, and stomps away, knowing she has to give up. 

—

Captain Levi sits at his desk, staring at the upset faces of four teenagers. His face does nothing to hide how exhausted he looks. His gaze fixes on Armin. “Arlert. Care to enlighten me on why you thought beating the shit out of a common man in broad daylight was a good idea?”

Armin wastes no time. Keeping his gaze straight ahead, he states, voice clear and loud, “He called Eren something offensive, Sir. I could not control myself.”

The Captain’s gaze is now on Eren. “And what did he call you?”

Eren squirms under the stare, wandering if saying it would be a good or bad idea. “A- a faggot. Sir.”

Levi’s eyebrows rise, and he pauses. He glares at the other boys, though the anger in his eyes doesn’t seem to be directed at any of them. Finally, he asks, “Did you catch a name?”

“No, Sir.”

The next question was completely random. “Why do you keep your hair like that, Yeager?”

Eren wills himself to keep a straight face. “Because it’s cute, Captain. Sir.”

Jean snorts, Armin smiles, and Connie bites his lip. 

Levi gets up from his chair and walks over to Eren, and peers close at his face. His face is probably blotched red, the adrenaline rush is still there, a little, and some locks of brown hair have been pulled free from his butterfly clips, making him look untidy. He fidgets under the intense eyes. Levi’s gaze looks melancholic, almost  _ nostalgic.  _ So unlike his usual blank sharp gaze.

“I suggest pigtails next time.” the Captain finally says. “Braided from the back. They… are more practical.” he finishes, thought it looked like he had wanted to say something else at the end. 

The boys stare at their Captain like the man had just whipped out a skirt on  _ himself.  _ Clearing his throat, Levi continues, “Grounded for 2 weeks, all four of you. However, if you see this man… again, make sure to get a name. I’d need it for the report, of course.”

The report. Of course. 

“Yes, Sir!”

“Dismissed.”

Silently walking to their dorms, they finally look at each other. 

“What the fuck.”

“ _ What the fuck.” _

“What… the fuck?” 

It seems they cannot form any other words right now. 

And then Jean is laughing, and they can’t help but join in, and the day’s events are gruesome and weigh heavy on their teenage shoulders, but they have faced worse, they have been eye to eye with death itself, and a stupid old man who does nothing but stick his thumbs up his own ass is such a  _ normal  _ problem, that it’s become miserably hilarious. 

—

**Three Years Later**

Eren kisses Armin senseless. 

He clings to his shoulders and gasps as he feels his tongue make contact with the other’s, and ruts against the others body. His palms massage the shoulder blades of the blond, squeezing and gripping tight. He feels hands trail down from his shoulder, going lower and lower, leaving burning skin behind, over his clothed body. They settle at the hem of his skirt, and his breath hitches, for he feels fingers play with it, fingers caressing the soft skin beneath it. 

“A-Armin,” he breathes out, his thighs squirming next to each other, feeling so devastatingly sensitive. 

“Can I?” The whisper is tentative, spoken with so much care and concern. With so much love. 

“Yeah, yea,  _ please. _ .” And then those fingers are trailing underneath, pinching the flesh of his thighs, running them over and over, evoking whine after whine from the brunet. 

He’s finally losing his virginity. 

Eren and Armin had begun dating a few months ago, and they had decided a few days ago they’d have sex tonight. Preparing for it had been rough, embarrassing, but they’re all forgotten as he lays on his bed, squirming as he is felt up in the most loving way possible. He wonders what Armin would think about the surprise undergarments he had decided to wear for tonight. 

He feels the soft palms inch upwards, and he ruts forward like an animal, whimpering for more. They finally settle on his ass, and he feels the fingers trace the material covering the swell of his cheeks, and smirks when he feels Armin still. 

“Eren…?”

The finger trace the elastic of the light green panties, and he feels his breath hitch when the blond curls a finger around it and brings it up, snapping it against his skin. He gasps.

“Holy shit.” Armin groans. “You’re unreal.”

Eren chuckles, loving the reaction, and settles his back against the bed, spreading his legs. He feels Armin shift so he could get on top of him, and soon they’re both pulling their tops off. The sound of heavy breathing fill the air. 

Armin settles between Eren’s spread legs, playing with the skirt again. He seems transfixed on the material. 

“If I knew you less, I’d think you love the skirt more than me.”

Armin responds with a rough pinch on his thigh, and he yelps, bending his knee to kick the boy’s back with his shin. 

“Keep quiet and let me admire you.”

Eren shuts up. Armin is lovely. He looks so pretty between his legs, his bright blue eyes are hazy with lust, and love, and his cheeks are flushed a rosey pink. Eren wanders how he had managed to bag the prettiest boy of their squad. Who is now between his legs, tracing his panties, while hitching up his  _ skirt _ . 

He whimpers when he feels a kiss right on top of his dick, still covered in soft cotton. “Please, don’t tease. That can be another time. Please.”

Armin nods, and pulls his panties down to the middle of his thighs, and he feels so lewd like this, legs spread, his skirt hiked up around his bare stomach, and wet panties stretched on his thighs, as his boyfriend suckles on the tip of his dick. 

“Oh, God, oh my God.” Eren screams, when Armin slowly takes his dick into his throat, inch by inch, his mouth hot and wet and fucking  _ amazing _ . Armin looks up, then, his blue eyes wet and lidded, and bops his head, tongue swirling around his dick like he is licking a lollipop. Eren can’t stop the whines and pleas that slip past his tongue. He doesn’t want to cum, he wants to go all the way, so he finally gathers himself.

He gently takes Armin’s chin in one hand and pulls him away, the moist pink lips making a pop sound as they let go of the tip. Saliva coats the exterior of his mouth, creating a minor shine. 

“I don’t want to cum like this.” he gasps. Understanding flashes in Armin’s eyes and the boy is sitting up, his hands all over Eren’s thighs again. He quickly leans over to coat his fingers in the oil they had placed in the table next to the bed. 

Dragging his fingers down to tease the brunet’s rim, Armin locks eyes with him. Eren’s heaving, his mouth open and lips quivering. “Get on with it,  _ fuck _ .”

A wet finger enters him, cautious and caring, and there are other fingers tracing patterns on his thigh, and Armin is pressing kisses on his shoulder as he leans down, and he almost completely forgets the pain of the breach. He takes slow breaths, getting himself used to the feeling, and nods for another. 

The second finger brings some discomfort, and he knows he is tight, he can feel it, but Armin is being genuinely gentle, treating him with care reserved only for him, so it doesn’t linger long. Soon he is being fucked shallowly by two fingers, occasionally getting scissored as Armin continues to stretch his hole. He can’t control the whimpers that slip, the discomfort has been replaced with spikes of a newfound pleasure, and he is aching for more. 

“ _ More,”  _ he breathes. His hand trails downwards and palms Armin’s dick, stroking it to get it completely hard. Armin lets out a high pitched moan, and he leans down to capture Eren’s lips with his. The third finger enters just as he deepens his kiss, effectively swallowing the moan that left Eren’s throat. 

The finger fucking continues for what feels like  _ ages _ for Eren. He feels so loose and fucked already, his spread legs trembling, chest heaving. His dick is hard and leaking and he knows he will cum any minute, so he whines, arching his back, almost lifting his hips completely off the bed. Even the material of his skirt touching his bare sensitive skin is enough to make him whine. 

“Enough,” he begs, “Please, this is enough, we can start, God, I can’t take it anymore.”

Armin frowns, “Are you sure? I want to make sure it won’t hurt you at all.”

“It won’t! It won’t! Just get on with it, before I cum just from your fingers,” Eren can’t even catch his own breath, he is so far gone, the only thing in his mind right now is how much he wants those fingers to be replaced by his boyfriend’s dick.

“Okay, but you have to tell me if it hurts. Please.”

Eren nods frantically, spreading his legs and bending his knees, and trying to lift his hips, but it is uncomfortable. He whines, frustrated, and Armin quickly leans over and grabs a pillow to keep underneath him. The new position feels much better, and Armin strokes his dick until it’s wet with oil. 

Eren absolutely cannot bear the emptiness, so he continues to whine, scowling upwards, “God, anytime  _ today,  _ Ar, seriously!” He feels so impatient he has to resist the urge to just get on top and sit on the blond’s dick and do the job himself. He blinks, realizing he wouldn’t mind that at all. Perhaps they should try that some other time. 

He gasps, startling out of his thoughts, when he feels the erection poke his entrance, slipping past his stretched rim and into his body. He keens, arching his back, the stretch and the fullness causing his mind to go blank. Armin is watching him like a hawk, his hands gripping his thighs as they’re forcefully pushed apart. 

“Oh God,” he moans, and closes his eyes and lets himself  _ feel  _ as Armin buries himself inch by inch until their hips are fully connected. 

The blond stays completely still, waiting for the other to open his eyes and show any indication to move. 

Eren rolls his hips, a whimper leaving when he feels the hard length jolt inside of him. “Move, Armin,  _ move,  _ Oh my God!”

Armin finally bends his body forward, pushing Eren’s legs up, and the panties are ripped away as they’re pushed past their limit, and Eren moans out loud. Holy Fucking Shit, sex is so much better than they both expected. 

Inexperience is a hard thing to battle, and Armin’s first few thrusts are careless, sloppily trying to find a rhythm or direction. He caresses Eren’s face, and murmurs praises that cause the boy to flush all the way down to his shoulders. Being fucked feels so satisfying, Eren realizes, and he couldn’t wait to show Armin what this feels like too, perhaps later in their sex life. 

When one of the thrusts particularly graze a spot that causes Eren to let out what is almost a scream, he arches his back, his fingers that had been lazily palming his dick gaining speed in their strokes. Realizing he must have finally found Eren’s prostrate, Armin angles his hips and begins to thrust them directly towards it, pulling it out almost to the tip, and slamming back, causing Eren to throw his head back and  _ writhe.  _

Three more slams right at the spot causes Eren to finally find his release, shoots of cum littering his stomach as he lets out a cry of pleasure and sensitive stimulation. He feels his eyes starts to tear up, and the other boy hasn’t stopped his fucking, so he continues to get fucked even after reaching his orgasm. The overstimulation is maddening, all Eren can do is lay there and take it, his legs numb and weak and pinched red and bruised, his hips jolting at the hard pace, his shoulders bitten. His lips are raw and swollen and his cheeks are flushed, his eyes glassy. He feels like he’s on  _ fire _ . 

Armin groans as he finally orgasms, releasing a hot load of cum right inside Eren’s ass, and Eren’s eyes roll back at the feeling of utter fullness that courses through his system. Pulling out, Armin stares at the gaping hole, red and wet and swollen, cum leaking out as it desperately twitched around nothing. 

“Urgh.” Eren grumbles, pulling his skirt back down to cover himself, the embarrassment causing his cheeks to flush a brighter red. 

“Hey, hey,” Armin whispers, “We need to clean you up.”

“Nooo.” he whines like a child. 

“Eren, that’s disgusting.”

“I don’t care.”

“Fine,” Armin gets up, and softly stands on his two feet, then jolts when he feels Eren grab him. 

“Don’t- Don’t leave now,” Eren begs, his face smashed against his pillow as he curls into himself, “I don’t want to be alone, I want cuddles!”

Sighing, Armin gently wrenches himself out of the grip, to which Eren pouts. “I’ll be back in a minute, love, just to get you a towel okay?”

Eren doesn’t respond, huffing and turning away, squeezing the pillow to himself. When Armin returns, he is almost asleep, his head heavy and mind hazy. “Armin?” he mumbles sleepily, to which the boy giggles and replies with a Yes, and he lets his pliant body be manhandled and wiped down, the scent of rose water filling the air. 

Armin crawls into his arms and fits like a missing puzzle piece, and the boy nuzzles Eren’s collarbones sleepily. “That was fun. I want to try more things with you.” 

That makes Eren a little more alert, and he giggles tiredly. “Yes please, I would like to fuck you next time, holy shit Armin, that felt  _ really  _ good!”

Armin just nods to his neck, too tired to speak.

“And ummm” Eren flushes, his earlier thoughts coming to mind. “I also want to ride you…” 

Armin looks up at that, his eyes wide. “Fuck yes!”

—

“You guys are all important to me.”

Eren watches them as they ride forward. According to Armin, they are all blushing because the sun is setting, and the atmosphere is a little warm. Mikasa is watching him with sad eyes, and Armin has his back turned to him, standing on top in front of their carriage.

“I don’t want any of you guys inheriting my titan.”

“Please live long happy lives.”

The three years he spent with these people are some of the best years of his life. His life has had two happy phases, Before the fall of Shiganshina, and the years he spend with the 104th. He owes these people his life. Eren is lucky to have lived a life worth thinking back on and reminiscing. He is lucky to sit here and look at them and be able to tell them how much he loves them. 

He doesn’t know what the future has in store for him. He doesn’t know the secrets of the titans yet. But he will fight beside them to win, somehow, so he can finally  _ live _ . 

Eren feels so tired, but he will not stop. 

**Author's Note:**

> hehe 
> 
> me: your 19 year old eren design looks gnc af  
> isayama: how did you get inside my house 
> 
> ANYWAY EREN YEAGER IS A HE/SHE/THEY! he’ll punch you and cause mass destruction in a skirt and he would not give a fuuuuuck.
> 
> FUN FACT! this was actually supposed to be an erejean fic! i think u guys could have sensed it, but now it looks like poor jean had a little one-sided crush (on both mikasa and eren, poor thing) would u guys like to read erejean?
> 
> ANYWAY: let me know what u guys think i always appreciate comments and kudos pls!!!! and tell me what u guys would like to read too! i love writing eremin and erejean and mostly bottom eren cos i, too, wanna rail him *.*


End file.
